


Nitro

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bisexual borderline-nympho Reyes, Heterosexual Sex, Lotta sex in general, M/M, Pre-Overwatch, Reyes likes to mess with white boys, Sexual Content, The chip on Reyes' shoulder is more of a cavern with its own gravitational field, Thirsty af Reyes basically, Whitebread vanilla ice-cream sandwich Jack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-09 19:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7813660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel Reyes had put in a lot of work to get where he was, and hadn't done it to give cookie-cutter All-Americans like Jack Morrison an easy ride to the top.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm basically a garbage person. That's the main thing here.
> 
> More specifically this came out of me wanting to take a shot at the set-up of the trashy angst vehicle that is the potential of Jack Morrison/Gabriel Reyes dynamic, but also neither of them identifying as gay because SEXUALITY SPECTRUM and stuff. Mostly I'm just garbage.

Gabriel Reyes laid in his bunk in the dead of night listening to the rhythmic patter that was Jack Morrison jerking off five beds down from him. It wasn’t surprising, as he’d been spotted slung over a payphone earlier today talking to the girl back home that _everyone_ had seen pictures of – even Reyes, in spite of his explaining (as he always did to new blood) that in no uncertain terms did he want to hear about anyone’s putas back home.

 _‘You’re here to fight’,_ he’d say, ‘ _Don’t leave your mind in a coño somewhere else.’_

But something about Morrison was diabolically predictable; the all-American with the matching small town sweetheart, blonde hair and clear blue eyes like they were grown in the same cornfield.

Reyes had seen plenty like him, and didn’t kid himself about whether he found it satisfying to watch their textbook romances fall apart. Scarce were the relationships that held up to the strain of active duty, especially when the kids they were sending him were naïve and easily cunt-struck. Foolhardy enough to rub one out in their bunk late at night thinking they’re being quiet – when the slip and sign of their breath and gentle creaking of metal tells all – after talking to their doe-eyed girlfriend.

Jack Morrison was far from the first, but he was a walking talking cliché, and it pissed Reyes off more than he cared to consider.

But worst of all – the boy was good.

He hadn’t wanted to like or be impressed by the brat shunted under him to ride his coattails all the way up to the top; hauling white boys up the rungs of power hadn’t ever been in his plan, not when he’d worked like a dog to get where he was, and didn’t get his meagre officer’s salary to wipe pretty boys’ asses and tell them they were special.

But the first time he took Morrison out, waiting with bated breath for him to go headlight-rabbit stupid and need pulling out of the fight, he ran out under fire to drag one of their wounded into cover without a second thought, and Reyes had cursed his goddam competence and told him he did good like he was spitting up bile. He wasn’t quite rooting for him to fail – no one wanted a deadweight – but he hated being proven wrong, and he’d pegged Morrison for a desk-riding poster boy, not a real hero.

In the years spent sharing barracks, bunked up in tents and even shitty motels from time to time, he’d heard just about every man in his squad pulling one out at some point or another. But Morrison worked his cock like it was going out of fashion; almost every night of the goddam week sometimes, and always – _always_ – after talking to his sugar-coated girl.

Who, in spite of the explanation that he had an interest level of zero in the characteristics of who anyone was putting their cock into, Reyes felt he knew more about than his own mother after just a few months of exposure to the walking, talking honey factory that was Jack Morrison’s mouth on the topic of his _girl back home_.

He seemed possessed with the need to remind anyone in earshot that she’d be sore as hell if anything happened to him, like he might suck up a bullet on purpose if he didn’t have her to live for.

 _Live for –_ he fucking hated the phrase. As if any of them were alive for a reason.

* * *

They were stuck in a dustbowl, waiting for orders and half-assing drills to kill the time, but if there was one person Reyes wasn’t going to let slip a goddam inch it was their golden boy. He had to take his shots where he could.

For whatever reason Morrison’s aim was off, scattering his bullets wider than their usual regimented accuracy. Reyes had made a habit of using the same targets as he did, just to make sure that he could pound all his in right on top and remind everyone who was at the top of this filthy dog pile.

“What’s the matter, Morrison?” he purred from over his shoulder. “Wear your arm out jacking off too much?” The laugh from the squad was sudden and near-hysterical, which could be the baking heat and desert madness wearing them all down, but might also be because the other men knew exactly what their CO was talking about. It’d been a busy week on Morrison's cock, and if Reyes wasn’t mistaken he might’ve even been blushing.

However, when orders came through and that same day they were holed up in stuffy, armpit-rancid armoured jeeps, and then crawling through the dirt that wasn’t quite sand trying not to suck up a lung full of shit as they closed in on the enemies’ location, when he needed to split his team in half he had no doubt about what to do.

“Morrison, take the second column,” he hissed like he might have venom in his teeth, but his second just nodded, complete focus in his hometown blue eyes.

Half-way into the approach when Reyes came under fire, felt that familiar rush of his own life recapping since the last time he almost died, he didn’t have to wait more than a few seconds before Morrison’s covering fire hailed down.

Reyes put up his head and their eyes met like he somehow fucking knew that he was going to look at him at that moment, and with a few hand signals Morrison sent him hammering up to the building with half the squad desperately trying to keep up, taking the stronghold by storm as the rest of the team arrived exactly when they should.

That was the problem: he wasn’t just good, he was fucking great. They had a synergy on the battlefield that he couldn’t even resent; just crazy enough to pull moves that should get you shot, but just smart enough to avoid it.

When they were back at camp washing sand that wasn’t quite dirt out of their asscracks and being glad no one bought it this time, he heard one of the other men calling their MVP – whether Reyes fucking liked it or not – out of the jury-rigged shower.

_‘Hey Jack-off! Drop your dick for once and get outta there!’_

Gabriel Reyes grinned and hoped that the nickname would stick.

* * *

They were South of the Equator, holding training for some of the shabbiest units he’d ever seen, and rather than barracks they were being housed in a local hotel. Two to a room, and Reyes knew without question what he was going to do, in spite of denying that he was going to do it until the last moment.

“Morrison,” he snapped when push came to shove. “You’re with me.”

He didn’t say anything, too much of a good soldier to question orders from his commanding officer, but it was a good thing no one asked because nothing about Gabriel’s reasoning was worthy. He ignored him most of the evening and went out; somewhere easy, where he could speak Spanish and drink all night without worrying about white boys and their inherent values of judgement.

He picked up a girl, or maybe vice-versa; young, good-time and trying her luck with the American officer. He brought her back to his room anyway and fucked her senseless in the narrow single bed next to Morrison’s, knowing there was no way he could sleep through it and making absolutely no effort to be quiet as he got his rocks off. He’d had to listen to Morrison’s kicks more than enough, and this was how he liked to do.

 _“De puta madre,_ ” he groaned through gritted teeth and orgasm, fingers pressed hard into the girl’s ass as she rode it out of him, whimpering as she racked up her final climax. It’d been a while – unlike his roommate, Reyes didn’t get much out of doing it to himself. Too fucking boring.

As the fade passed he noticed Morrison turning over in his bead – close enough to his in the cramped room that he could practically reach out and touch him. Reyes wondered if his cock would be hard: lucky thing he just came, or a thought like that could get him going again.

Instead he rolled his hips into the girl and gave her a couple of cheeky swats on the thigh as she slid out of him.

“Que Bueno,” she panted, falling forward to drape over his chest like a scarf. He could have edged her away, gotten the inevitable over with sooner rather than later and sent her packing, but he didn’t.

“Ai chica,” he murmured, letting her insignificant weight on top of him be comforting in some small, equally insignificant way.

Laying his palm over the flat of her back, he held her against him and felt her breath and heartbeat in his chest like they were part of his own body; not alone, briefly.

It couldn’t last. After sleeping awhile, he had to wake her – without wanting to fuck her again, lest they end up in a cycle that could last until sunrise.

“Vamos, chica,” he said into her neck, knowing he was already getting hard and fighting himself not to just roll on top of her. “I’ll call you a taxi.” It was firmer in English, and she let out a whine that he silenced with his mouth, tongues wrestling even as he sat upright. Morrison coughed, and a part of him was violently tempted to ask if he wanted to join in.

The thought of sharing this girl with such a perfect relationship sucker did even worse things to him, and he knew he had to get out of the room before he pulled his tongue out of this girl’s mouth and said something that could get him in trouble.

He bundled her out of the door, fucking her again in an intense bolt of passion over the bonnet of a car as they waited for a taxi, then slunk back to his room steeped in post-coital haze and the beginnings of a hangover.

Falling into bed, he spotted the sounds of someone pretending to be asleep a mile away, and drifted off lost in consideration of the firmness of Jack Morrison’s cock.

* * *

Little came of the incident until they’d been back on the base for the better part of two weeks. Reyes had almost resigned himself to not being able to crack the glassy, kiln-fired glaze that covered Morrison’s all-star casing.

“Just a minute, sir!” he called out, running across the compound to him late one day; it always sounded forced when he had to pay dues to Reyes’ seniority, like he forgot it until the last minute. Maybe that was just the way he sounded – or how he heard it.

“What?” he bit with the no-shit attitude he’d carefully cultivated to keep everyone’s problems off his back. He’d move home and get a wife if he wanted to be a babysitter for the rest of his life.

“Well, my girl’s coming to visit next week…”

“You remember any of the thousand times I mentioned how much of a fuck I don’t give?” he remarked with all the subtlety of a bottle to the face. “No one gets time off.” The only way someone got away from duties for a girl was if it was their mother and she was in a body bag, as he’d explained on more than one occasion.

“Not _that_ ,” he retorted; Reyes metre for the arrogance of white boys was unfavourably skewed to start with, but he could swear Morrison was getting bigger in his boots. Like he knew he was the next-best man they had and was starting to get cosy.

“Then spit it out, pendejo,” he snapped.

“Well, it’s the first time she’s visiting since I got here… so I wanted to… I figured we’d… _you know…_ ” he rambled, apparently no concern for how much of his CO’s time he was wasting, or maintaining his usual ability to string fucking words together. It was only the creeping blush – that rooted on his neck before it blossomed in his cheeks – that clued Reyes in.

“Oh, do you need me to tell you where to stick it?” he asked, cracking a sick grin. “Though there’s no wrong answer if you know what you’re doing.” Morrison looked like his head might have started giving off smoke, and Reyes would’ve pinned him to a wall and talked filth in his ear for hours if he thought he could blow the top off him once and for all.

“No, uh,” he rushed, looking away like they might be chased off with a broom for even daring to talk – or _not_ talk – about sex out in the open. “I know _that…_ it’s just, I wanted to… you know, make it _special_ and you… uh….”

Gabriel couldn’t smile any harder without splitting his face open.

“Why didn’t you just, ese,” he said sinisterly. “Send her to me, I’ll show her a good time.”

“Very funny,” he retorted, punching Reyes in the shoulder surprisingly hard; they’d sparred a couple of times, but if there was someone he’d want to go blood and teeth fist-fight with, it was a Ken doll like him. He used to steal the stupid toys from his sisters and smash them up as kid, compelled to break something that looked so alien.

“I ain’t joking,” he slurred, slinging his arm around Morrison’s shoulders and putting his mouth much closer to his ear than it needed to be. “I show better than I tell, hombre.”

Morrison shoved him off in a deeply satisfying way; the less comfortable he was the better.

“Forget I asked,” he said like he was electrified. “You just _sounded_ like you knew a few things.” It was the first time he’d referred to that night, and Reyes wouldn’t dare to try and consider how glad he was. All he needed to know was that he could _get_ to Mr. Hometown Sweetheart, and it sounded like he’d spent some in Morrison’s head.

“Eaaasy,” he soothed, “You want a few tips to impress your girl, I get it.” The arm went back around his shoulders. “You came to the right guy.”

“I’m not so sure,” he replied, but Reyes’ arm stayed where it was.

“Well, the first secret is that there’s no one trick,” he explained, basking in the moment, “Mother nature didn’t make every girl in the same mould. Hell,” he chuckled, breathy over Morrison’s collar, “that’d take all the fun outta it.” He wasn’t that far from just dropping his mouth on heat-radiating skin, and though the temptation was there he just stared and wondered if he’d ever stop wanting to break other people’s toys.

“Would it?” Morrison questioned blindly; kid-stupid thinking that screwing could be interesting if you didn’t have to work for it.

“Everyone has something makes them go loco,” he explained, wondering what it was that did Morrison in – if he even knew. “That girl,” he said, baring his teeth through his grin, and they both knew exactly which one. “She loved to ride.” Morrison was puzzled.

“Ride?”

“Joder, yes, _ride_ ,” he said, positioning his hands demonstratively over his crotch and adding a cheeky roll of his hips for added effect. Let Morrison stare at his cock through his pants – maybe it’d make him realise the world didn’t begin and end on the tip of his. “I just lay back and let her go,” he slurred, and the entirety of Morrison’s neck was red as a tomato.

“Oh… you mean like, _different positions_ ,” he hushed as if he was sharing classified information.

“Fuck me, yes, chico,” he replied, wondering what kind of shitty lay he had to be. “Maybe you should watch me next time.” Instead of pretending to be asleep and being a chronically passive temptation.

“I’ll pass,” he answered quickly. Still uncomfortable, possibly enough to leave – but Reyes wasn’t done tossing him around like a cat batted a mouse yet.

“Hey, just trying to help,” he only half-lied. And he had an idea. “I know, why don’t you take her to my quarters while she’s here?” He lifted the arm that wasn’t sitting around Morrison’s neck like a boa constrictor and patted him on the chest.

“Really?” He looked up with baby doll glass eyes, like they’d slide shut on weights if you laid him down.

“Sure,” he replied like it was that easy; or like most of the unit wouldn’t throw an absolute fit if they knew he was offering out his room as a fuckspace. “Least I can do, right?” That was a blatant lie, but Morrison was far too gullible to doubt him.

“Wow, thanks… sir,” he said bashfully, like he still couldn’t remember who outranked who.

“De nada,” he insisted, patting him again on the chest that could’ve been scaled down to mould the perfect-man dolls he hated so much. “You just have fun.”

After all, he planned to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news is I'm still garbage, the bad news is I've no idea what length/chapters/update schedule I'm gonna land on, so it is what it is (and when it is). Enjoy!

Gabriel Reyes had lived what felt like a lifetime of hearing about Jack Morrison’s fucking girlfriend coming to visit for the first time, and with the day finally upon them he was hard pressed not to ‘accidentally’ bust his nose out of spite.

“Morrison,” he snarled over the tail end of yet another line about this beyond-perfection broad who couldn’t make her own goddam way from a bus station. “I hear about this girl one more fucking time and I’ll make you into one.”

Morrison looked at him like a puppy on the wrong end of a boot, but others tittered like maybe they were sick of it too. He had a mouth that didn’t know when to stop running, and for as good as he was when he needed to be, the rest of the time he could be described as somewhere between obnoxious and a jackass.

That shut him up enough to allow the rest of them get through the day without a cuckoo clock for a comrade. Or for most of them, at least, because no sooner were they done than Morrison was half a step behind Reyes like he’d been trained to heel.

“Reyes… sir… I’m about to leave, and I was just wondering…” he started to babble.

“What? Spit it out,” he snapped – rare phrasing, coming from him.

“…Well, when you said I could, uh…  _use_  your quarters,” he spilled quietly.

“And?” he continued with the same vitriol. “You want me to light some candles and scatter rose petals or something?”

“No, I… uh, is it still okay?” That blush was starting on his neck again; Reyes could’ve covered it with his whole hand if he’d wanted to, grabbing him by the throat like there could be any reason for him to do that.

“I keep my word,” he said unpleasantly. “You know which door is mine, don’t you?” He shrugged. “It’s open.”

“Yeah, I just… thanks,” he mumbled, and Reyes wondered if he was as incoherent during sex as talking about it.

“I said don’t worry about it,” he retorted uninterestedly. “Let me know if you want an extra pair of hands.”

“Hah hah,” he droned like Reyes was joking, which he wasn’t.

Morrison left on his ridiculous fetch mission and Reyes counted it out, watching them arrive from across the compound and giving it about an hour before he strolled over to his quarters, keys spinning from one finger to unlock the door that’d obviously been locked.

For once he was glad their rooms couldn’t be locked from the inside; it would’ve impacted his ability to swagger into his own room and flip on the lights like there wasn’t a couple fucking in his bed. A girlish sound of shock was followed by a disorientated grunt from Morrison, and Reyes met his eyes across the room as he closed the door behind himself.

“Don’t mind me,” he remarked with a perverse grin. “Just grabbing a few things.”

“Jesus Christ, Reyes!” Morrison blurted, looking somewhat ridiculous as his girl tried to pull her legs out from either side of him; plain as day missionary, under the covers even though he’d turned on the lights – it was disappointing somehow, even though he knew not to expect better.

“That’s Reyes- _sir_  to you,” he countered, crossing the room like he absolutely couldn’t care less. He couldn’t see much of the girl, huddling behind Morrison under the covers, but imagined she could see him just fine _._

“Uh,  _sir_ ,” he said in a strangled voice.

“Won’t be long, you two carry on,” he remarked with a casual waggled of his fingers. The agitated whispering of the female tongue as he pulled his t-shirt over his head was music to his ears.

“With all due respect… sir,” he struggled to get out. “We’re a little…”

“Hm?” he grunted like he wasn’t paying attention, changing into a fresh shirt and grabbing a hat on his way out. “Oh, don’t wait on me,” he taunted as he unhooked a jacket on the way out, sweeping past the timid bundle in the sheets that was this world-famous girl.

The door swung shut and Reyes got all of about four paces away from it before it flew open again. Morrison tumbled out after him barefoot, boxers and t-shirt on backwards with a lightly glazed look in his eyes.

“Wait just a… what was all that?” he called after Gabriel, who pivoted on his heels like Jack had him on a rip-cord.

“What was  _what?_ ” he growled like he wasn’t thrilled to be chased leaving a girl warm and unsatisfied in his bed.

“You know, busting in on me and… while we’re…”

“Fucking?” Reyes supplied just to light him up. “So what? Nice to see you took my advice to heart.” His sarcasm bit, but stupid, naïve Morrison wasn’t interested in seeing the warning signs.

“I…. it’s none of your-” he spluttered, “you  _said…”_

“I  _said_  you could use my room,” he clarified. “Not that  _I_  wouldn’t.” That’d defeat the entire point of the setup.

“Is this some kind of game to you?” he accused, red as a pepper.

“Game?” he echoed, stepping closer to Morrison until he could smell the sex on his skin. “Don’t forget who’s doing you a favour here, hombre.” The harsh camp lights picked up a smear of iridescent makeup on his mouth, and Reyes still wasn’t beyond busting him in the face just to ruin everything. “Unless you’d like to take that piece outside and fuck her in an alleyway like a whore, you could do to be more gr-”  _grateful_ , he’d been about to say, until Morrison clocked him in the jaw first.

“Don’t talk about her like that!” he spat, all dick-first and principles before common sense.

Reyes didn’t respond right away, just put a hand to the tingling spot Morrison’s knuckles had connected with his chin and stared at him, more surprise than anger. The things he’d do right now were a toss-up between violent and best not gone into, but he wasn’t after a brawl, so he levelled a calm stare that would impress upon Morrison the stupidity of what he’d just done.

“I could book you for that,” he said quietly, tongue running along the back of his teeth like he needed to check they were all still there.

“I… sorry,” he begrudged, glancing up just long enough to notice the eyebrow Reyes had lifted at him. “Sir.” No sooner had he said it than Reyes reached out and grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to make eye contact for longer than a second.

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” he said like he was holding a fresh razorblade to Morrison’s throat; as if he could cut him open any moment, and the arbitrary decision not to the only reason he wasn’t bleeding out right now. Morrison was wild-dog angry underneath it all, like he needed wrestling into a muzzle before he took a piece out of Reyes’ hand in spite of warning.

“You could’ve at least knocked,” he ground out like he might start spitting broken glass.

“On my own door?” Reyes queried, letting go and watching him shake off the contact. A flick of his eyes downwards told him that none of this had done much to diminish Morrison’s hard-on, outlined through his boxers. Reyes wasn’t doing too badly himself – a rare treat to get this riled up before heading out. “If I’m not mistaken, you’ve got a girl back there waiting to get fucked.” He flashed some tooth through his smirk, one crooked fang out of line with the rest. “If you’re not gonna take care of it, I’d be glad to.”

Like he was that fucking stupid, Morrison’s fist flew for his face again, but this time Reyes caught him by the knuckles, squeezing until he saw him wince.

“Easy, soldier,” he said more like a threat than anything else. “Try that again and I’ll knock your goddam block off.” The hand dropped, and Morrison stepped back to put more than a breathful of space between them.

“Don’t do me any favours, then,” he said bitterly, and Reyes had faith he’d really gotten to him.  _Good._

“And miss out on your insubordinate, shit-tier attitude?” he posed sarcastically. “Go fuck it out, Morrison, unless you really wanna stay here and keep on flirting.” That got to him in a new way, like Reyes had run ice up his back. See if he could peel that sticker back up.

They stood there glaring for longer than was comfortable or necessary. Morrison just couldn’t  _drop it_ , panties twisted so far up his ass that he felt entitled to some penance that Reyes would give him over his cold, dead body. He scoffed and turned to leave when it became clear Morrison couldn’t or wouldn’t.

“Pinches gringos,” he muttered with a shake of his head. “No saben follar.”

“That’s it?” he heard at his back.

“Exactly,” he delivered like a bullet to the temple – his or Morrison’s, it didn’t really matter.

“But-” he spluttered like there was anything else to say.

“But what? Chingate,” he spat over his shoulder, soles of his boots itching as he stopped walking away for too long.

“You realise I don’t speak-” Jack replied like it was actually a conversation they were having.

“It means shut the fuck up and go wet your dick,” he snarled. “We’re done here.”

It was probably reluctance to chase him across the yard in his boxers with an erection that sent Morrison back inside, and Reyes heaved a desolate sigh as he heard the door close.

The man didn’t know when to quit – a fucking dangerous combination when most of the time he didn’t either.

* * *

 

They shipped out earlier than expected, cutting short Morrison’s time with his infamous girl – they hadn’t taken up Reyes on his hospitality again, though he’d caught Morrison sneaking back into camp (as was he) and assumed it was the nearest shitty motel that had hosted their vanilla layer-cake fucking thereafter.

They were far from such comforts in the field, where Morrison shifted back into the niche he was carving out as Reyes’ own right-hand – which he would’ve put a quick stop to if he wasn’t so fucking capable.

They were three floors up in a 20-storey block, clearing room by room when a spotter in a stairwell saw them first.

“Split!” he barked as bullets chased the runner out of sight. “Morrison, shut it down.”

“Understood,” he answered, uncharacteristically brief when chatter usually poured out of his mouth.

Except his focus was flawless in the moment, like those blue-sky eyes saw everything and never really needed to be told; he already knew what he was expected to do, and quickly pulled half the squad behind him and set off after the informer like he was born into it.

Reyes and the rest of the men kept working up, but four floors later he radioed for their location and didn’t get an answer.

“Come in,  _come in_ ,” he repeated in his radio, worry starting to close its familiar grip. “Where the fuck are you cabrónes at?” he snarled into the mic, but it gave him nothing but static. “Joder,” he bit, barging past his men into a stairwell and listening. Shots from above; Morrison had been moving fast. “Keep clearing the floors,” he shouted back at the squad. “You,” he said, pointing at their next best man. “Don’t fuck it up.” He nodded in understanding, moving to the front of the line.

Reyes took the steps three at a time, sprinting up floors until the gunfire he was chasing came onto the same level as him. Kicking open a door the hallway was empty, but at the end double doors showed signs of a fight inside.

Taking the corridor like an Olympic sprint, he was almost as the end when an explosion from inside blew him back the other way. Half-winded as he hit the floor, Reyes scrambled back up with fear and fury in the tang of blood on his tongue.

“No no no,” he chanted as he crashed through the doors, cursing himself for splitting the squad – for putting Morrison in charge – and putting them all in body bags for sad silly girls to cry over when he almost ran clean into him.

Morrison was half-covered in blood, but by guesses it wasn’t his because he had one of their men over his shoulder, carrying him out just as Reyes burst in.

“There’s more,” he said without further context, shouldering the guy from his arm onto Reyes like he was handing over a parcel.

“The fuck happened?” he snapped as he took the dead weight of a wounded 6ft bodybuilder and barged back into the hallway, not giving either of them enough time to answer as laid their guy down and started checking him over; shock, a little singed, but nothing fatal – yet. Morrison came out a moment later with someone else, and Reyes already had syringes out, dosing the ones who needed it and slapping the rest into enough sense to help out as he reached for his radio. “We’re on eleventh,” he told the rest of the squad. “Get the fuck up here.”

“Shot a gas canister,” Morrison explained as he laid someone else down.

“Joder,” he responded, sure this would go down as his greatest fuck-up to date. “Bastards.”

“I did,” Morrison corrected. “On purpose.” In case Reyes was under any false notions about whether he was incompetent or just insane.

“What? Estas loco?!” he snarled, cuffing him on the back of the head as they crouched over the coagulating remains of their unit.

“None of the bodies in there are ours,” he retorted in exactly the way someone shouldn’t have spoken to their CO in the field, but this was Jack Morrison, who constantly forgot he didn’t run the goddam world. “You can count them yourself.”

“Hijo de perra,” he despaired, and then looking right at him. “Crazy fucking bastard.” Except Morrison’s looking-glass eyes were cutting straight through him, past the end of the hallway to the stairwell.

“I know where the rest are,” he said like he hadn’t heard a goddam word.

“What?” he bit, busy making sure all of his men were going to ride out of here with a heartbeat.

“Their leaders are holed up on seventeen,” he continued.

“That’s not my fucking priority,” Reyes replied nastily; they were secure for now, and the pounding of boots from the stairwell quickly proved to be the rest of the unit. Another six floors would kill the lot of them. And yet he couldn’t just let it lie – it was their mission, and he had a reputation for getting the job done to uphold. "Goddamit," he spat. “You sure?”

“Heard it from a dying man’s mouth,” Morrison replied absolutely, covered in soot and blood looking like a force of fucking nature.

“Too many floors for all of us,” Reyes muttered – they had wounded to take out.

“I’ll go,” Morrison said like the fucking lunatic he was, and Reyes shook his head. No way did golden boy go in there alone and make it out alive – and to hell if he was going to let that sap of a girl cry over his goddam coffin.

“Joder,” he hissed, wondering if he ordered Morrison to sit his ass down and take care of the unit whether he’d actually do it. It wasn’t something that was going to get tested today. “Fine.” He turned to the man who’d led the rest of the unit up here. “Get everyone out,” he ordered. “If me and Morrison don’t join you within a half hour leave without us.”

“Sir?” the man half-questioned the way a soldier who knew their place spoke to their commanding officer. A moment under the crazy in Reyes’ eyes was all he needed to deliberate. “Yes sir.”

“What are you-” Morrison started, only for Reyes to smack him in the back of the head again.

“Shut it, Jack,” he growled. “Last thing I need today is six floors of you being a cunt.” Morrison looked at him with those eyes like oases in the middle of a wasteland.

“Sir,” he said unquestioningly – getting it right for _once –_ and he could have just as well punched him in the gut.

“That’s better. Vamos,” he ordered, and then gesturing with a couple of fingers, shoulder-to-shoulder they cut into the stairwell and started to ascend.

Two floors up they came under fire and went back to the wall like a pair of synchronised swimmers.

“I’ll-” Morrison started, only to get cut off when Reyes shoved him in the direction he was planning to go to draw their fire.

“Just go!” he barked, stepping out to pepper their attackers with covering fire. He clipped one, and Morrison – sprinting up the stairs – took another. He cleaned up the rest as they tried to turn Mr. America into a pile of hot meat, and caught up with him as they took another three floors faster than either of them would’ve made alone.

“You don’t need to tell me what you’re doing, cabrón,” he panted as they thumped upstairs. “Just fucking do it.” Someone stepped in front of them swinging a big piece of chain before Morrison could find a smartass reply.

Reyes went low and slid under the chain as it sliced over his head, skidding past the guy as Morrison caught the end and tussled in a tug-o-war as as he got up on the other side. He swung his boot like a wrecking ball at the end of a kick that sent the guy flying straight over the balustrade – still hanging onto the chain with Morrison clinging to the other end, almost pulling him over the side too.

It was a 16 floor drop to the ground, knuckles blanched on both ends as he dangled life-or-death from Jack Morrison’s hands.

“Move it!” Reyes ordered, but rather than drop him Morrison swung the guy hard enough to fling him onto a rail a couple floors down, scrambling for his life as he got back on solid ground. “Pinche idiota,” he muttered, shaking his head as they sprinted up the last flights.

The intel came up good; the promised floor was the only one with armoured doors, and Reyes held up a hand, halting Morrison before he tried to do anything stupid.

 _‘Wait_ ,’ he mouthed, and they stood with their backs to the wall either side of the door, hearts thumping. He watched a bead of sweat clean a path down the side of Morrison’s face; _crazy motherfucker_ – just like him.

It wasn’t long before the door opened and a sentry popped out to inspect whether the battle was over yet. Reyes grabbed his mouth while Morrison got his gun, silencing and disarming in a flat second. They got through the door with the wriggling lookout still trying to scream into Reyes’ palm, who pinched his nose and choked him unconscious with you-don’t-wanna-know-how precision.

They’d cut through three pairs of men before someone finally realised none of their boys were coming back; things got messy when they ran out of ammo, resorting to cutting their way through at close range, moving in each other’s blind spots and snatching weapons where they could get them.

A door flew open with double barrels of a shotgun behind it, but Reyes broke the guy’s nose and nabbed the weapon before it fired. With the familiar weight in his hands, he looked over at Morrison who stood between him and three men.

Reyes lifted the barrel until it brushed the top of Jack’s spine, who felt the bite of gunmetal and hit the floor just as he pulled the trigger, blowing them all away a few inches over Morrison’s head.

“Fucking Christ, Reyes!” he yelled from the floor, ears probably ringing something nasty. “You almost killed me!”

“I knew you’d duck,” he replied confidently, pumping the barrel and dragging him up by his collar. “Let’s finish this.”

They emerged from the building well after Reyes had ordered the squad to leave to find them still waiting, blood under their boots and dirty work done for the day.

He climbed into the back of the van and let out a sigh that had been held under pressure for too long, too relieved to be angry as the engine revved to get them the fuck out of there. Morrison slumped down across from him, head back to the wall of the truck and staring up at the ceiling.

“I told you not to wait,” Reyes commented gruffly.

“Apologies, sir,” said the person he delegated to who wasn’t Morrison. Right now Gabriel hardly remembered his own goddam name, much less the rest of theirs. “How did it go?”

He could just make out Morrison in the dingy light – he’d closed his eyes, but hell if he wasn’t paying attention.

“Fine,” he answered tersely. “Gringo did well.”

“Hear that, Jack-off?” one of the other men teased. “The boss thinks you’re all right.”

“Hm,” Morrison grunted, not opening his eyes. “Dunno if I’d say the same.” He was bone bastard tired, but Reyes could pull on his last reserves, stoke the always-burning embers of cynicism to rise to the occasion.

“Is this about the shotgun?” he baited. “I knew you’d get outta the way.”

“Sure,” he replied sarcastically – like he was entitled to make a judgement.

“What, you think I woulda shot through you?” he taunted, and now Morrison picked his head up, opened his eyes fully to look at him. Tension was starting to rise; the men sensed this wasn’t the same joshing and pisstaking as usual.

“Seems like you tried,” he answered, and for all this it was as if Morrison was actually mad at him. Like that was a legitimate way that he could be with a superior officer – his commanding officer – with _him._

“You leave the life and death calls to me, Morrison,” he snapped. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

He stared back, and even though they’d just fought for their lives, this was it – right here in the back of the truck. The rest of the men were quiet, waiting to see if Morrison would throw down in front of all of them.

Reyes stared at him through the dark, daring him to fucking try it. He would take his ass down in excruciating, by-the-book steps til he was beaten black and blue with the goddam regulations.

“Fine,” he said wearily, breaking his own back for the sake of being a good soldier, but Reyes wanted a good dog.

“Fine? Who the fuck do you think you are?” he pushed savagely, not needing a shotgun in his hands to be lethal. “Do you need reminding how to speak to your CO?” Reyes was exhausted, but it only drove him harder; he would’ve kicked him out the back of the truck and rolled in the dirt if that was what Morrison needed to understand just _who_ was the fucking boss here.

“No,” he replied wearily.

“No  _what?”_  Reyes baited, wishing he could see the resentment no doubt being levelled his way as he forced Morrison to put himself under him - where he belonged.

“No sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably need some help on account of how broken I am about these awful boys.
> 
> Thanks/blame to Sylla for transmitting this pairing to me and then encouraging me with all our helpful screaming about things and beta-ing of chapters. <3


End file.
